


Habits

by CaptainDuck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emma Selby has ADHD, F/F, I'm up past my bedtime to write this, Non-binary Rowan Khanna (mentioned), Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Relationship, Swearing, and really shitty Death Eater parents, yes adults have bedtimes too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDuck/pseuds/CaptainDuck
Summary: After a particularly hard day, Emma Selby falls into a bad habit of staying up all night long; little does she know that coincidence is conspiring to bring to light worse old habits from her childhood, and right in front of the one girl she'd rather didn't know about them.This is the first time I've ever posted on here, and was originally supposed to be just a little snippet to get the ball rolling on actually trying to write a (much) larger story based on Hogwarts Mystery and my character in the game. Constructive criticism is very welcome, but don't get your hopes up about my suddenly getting productive or responding to comments in a timely manner if you enjoyed this, because my ability to procrastinate is very strong.
Relationships: Penny Haywood/Player Character
Kudos: 15





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Edited slightly 2/12/21 (or 12/2/21 for the rest of the world)

**Just before Winter break, 4th year**

Emma Selby was internally screaming at herself. _What are you doing, go the fuck to sleep you fucking asshole!_ she raged, trying and failing to tear her eyes away from the not-at-all-compelling book about trains she currently had propped up against her bookbag. 

She could feel her frustration mounting, somewhere far in the back of her mind, at her seeming inability to control her own body, or to listen to her own voice of reason. _Why am I like this? I thought I was supposed to be able to stop doing this kind of shit when I started taking medication, but here I am, using it to do this to myself like some sort of stupid piece of shit._

She was just glad that no one else (especially Rowan, with that knowing look she [dammit, _they_ ; some friend she was] had that silently, nonjudgmentally went right through Emma’s bullshit every time) was down in the common room with her right now; not that they would have any good reason to be, it was 1:53 in the morning, and she didn’t even have a good reason. All it’d felt like she’d had all day were bad reasons to do things: she’d argued with Penny about something trivial that she couldn’t even remember now, then she’d lost Ravenclaw 10 House Points falling for Snape’s bait and telling him to sod off (among other unpleasantries exchanged) after he’d made another snide comment about Ben’s potions when Ben had done a perfectly fine job except for the giant mistake he'd made with the Lionfish spines when Snape started breathing down his neck, and then to top it all off, she’d gone and dredged up some particularly venomous old mistake (the Devil’s Snare) and thrown it right in Merula’s face, when she knew damn well that Merula had sincerely apologized for it (and still hadn’t forgiven herself for having done it), and that she might still be trapped bound in that fucking broom closet if Merula hadn’t heard her having the loudest mental breakdown ever and saved her. And she, Emma Selby, Queen Bitch and Resident Fuck-Up, had had to just go and take out her shitty day on all of them and ruin everything. They probably hated her right now, and she couldn’t say she blamed them; she did too.

She decided that if she was not going to be even slightly intelligent, then at least she could sneak down to the library and study. Plus, she didn’t want Rowan waking up and coming down to give her that look and one of - _their_ \- patented disappointed Mom looks before launching into a lecture about sleep hygiene and taking better care of herself. The way she felt right now, Emma wasn’t sure if she could handle actually seeing her best friend disappointed in her; just imagining it all night was bad enough.

When Emma got to the library after a particularly close call with Mrs. Norris, she pulled out her Ancient Runes book and tried to ease herself into studying for exams with something she actually liked. As time plodded on, however, she could feel her headache coming on strong, pulling her attention repeatedly from her textbook and forcing her to restart the page she was reading, getting less and less back each time before, after a vice-lick pinch in her skull, she hurled the book across the table with a shout. Emma froze, listening.

Apparently, none of the prefects had been nearby, as no one came to bust her for being out so late. _Why did I just do that? Why do I keep ruining good things? Penny, Rowan, Merula; I’m dragging them all down with me. I’m being such a bad friend. I’m at magic school, and I can’t make myself study or even fucking sleep when it’s the night before exams, and now I’m gonna bomb all my exams and when I do I’m gonna whine and complain and wallow about it and pull everyone else into my little shit fest when they’ve got their own shit going on. Shit that I’ve been too selfish to ask about. I’ve been so self-centered, I haven’t even bothered to ask Penny how her little sister was doing or if she was excited to be coming to Hogwarts next year, and now I’ve probably ruined that book Penny bought me for my birthday, and_ \- “Oh shit, the book!”

Everything rushed in at Emma all at once, and she scrambled out of her chair to retrieve her book, not caring about how much noise she was making. Her hair caught the chair and yanked, pulling her down to the ground with a shout of “mother _fuck_ er” and some disapproving glances shot her way by the nearby ghosts before she felt a sickening rip, and saw that a thick lock of her hair hadn’t followed her down to the floor, instead choosing to remain on the slats of her chair where Peeves had tied it while she was attempting to study. Slowly, she raised a shaking hand to the back of her head, and felt around the suspiciously damp spot on her head to confirm that, yes, she _was_ missing a tuft of her long, dirty blonde hair. When she brought her hand back in front of her, she saw that it was nicely coated in blood. Her blood. Suddenly, she was 7 again, back in Little Hangleton again, back in that house, trying to stay as quiet as possible while her parents had one of their Death Eater meetings, trying to stay quiet enough in her room that her parents could pretend that their filthy, muggle-loving disappointment of a daughter didn’t exist solely to humiliate them in front of their colleagues. Jacob never had trouble staying quiet in his room during Mom and Dad’s meetings; Jacob never does anything wrong she thought with a bitter laugh before she realized her mistake and clapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late; the living room had fallen dead silent, no other sounds existing in the universe except Emma’s muffled heavy breathing and her mother’s shoes dangerously creaking the floorboard just outside her door. Then she’s hauled out into the living room by a hand woven into her hair, her pleas and apologies unwanted, before being dumped on the floor in front of the group gathered in her home, a little hair choosing to stay with her mother’s hand, seeking even the slightest warmth. Her father’s hand goes up, and before she knows it’s back down by his side, bringing with it a harsh, stinging pain as the sharp side of his Death Eater ring finds her thankfully closed eye and neatly slices open her soft skin from eyebrow to dimple. She clutched at her eye and whimpered, looking down at the floor from her knees as she sniffled hard, snot already flowing as freely as her blood, when she heard her mother’s frigid voice. “Emmaline Bellatrix Selby” (her godmother cackled softly from somewhere on her left upon hearing her name as the girl’s middle name, “don’t make me ask you again; get up when I tell you to, girl.” Emma pulls her heavy head up to look at her mother, she stifled sobs making her whole body shake, but she’s thankful that she didn’t make any noise this time; it was always worse if they could hear your weakness. She meets her mother’s eyes, which seem to drill straight through her, probing for vulnerability and finding it in spades. “Now go back to your room, and if you interrupt us again your piano teacher might just have to find a new student.” Afraid to open her right eye and get any blood in it, Emma shuffled back to her room, biting a small split in her lip to crush a groan when she misjudged and hit her hip on the doorway. Only after the last of the visitors has gone does she cry and scream, once Jacob came in to clean her wound.

Emma is pulled back into the present when she feels a warm hand close over her shoulder, the other going to her sweat-drenched forehead. She can hear herself practically screaming out her sobs, her breaths barely getting around the iron plates that have apparently lodged themselves on top of her lungs, gasps breaking the cries before they start again. She only opens her eyes when she feels the hand’s thumb tracing small circles on her left shoulder, the other hands so far unsuccessfully to uncurl her small frame from the tight ball she’s scrunched herself into on the floor, her patchy right side of her head guarded from sight by the floor. Focusing on the thumb’s circles on her shoulder, Emma takes a deeper gasp and starts to drift back into her body from her spot in the audience. She notices Penny’s voice cutting through her watery haze, whispering “I don’t care what Jane told you, or that I’m not a prefect yet; she clearly needs help, not a detention!” An unintelligible reply, followed by a terse “So go tell Professor Sprout then, we’ll either be here or the Hospital Wing when you get back! If you’re not going to help me, then just leave; much better than being a twat about this!” Some footsteps recede, and Penny notices that Emma’s breathing has gotten a little easier, although it’s still interrupted by the occasional sob or sniffle. All Emma can think is how little she deserves a friend like Penny.  
Emma finally croaks out what’s been bothering her all night: “Why am I like this Penny?”

Penny seems stunned into silence for half a second, before she gently asks, “What do you mean Em?” She looks at Emma the same way she looks at Ben throughout Potions; a mixture of unmasked concern and helplessness.

“Why do I ruin everything?” Emma forces out, her lungs now aching and her vocal chords shredded from her previous efforts.

Penny frowns at this. “No, you don’t ruin everything Em, don’t say that.”

“Yes I do,” Emma replies back almost immediately, albeit weakly. “I was such a brat to you at lunch today, and then I was so mean to Merula, just when we were finally getting somewhere with being friends! Every time things start to go really good and I start to feel hopeful, I do something like this and wreck it all! Why am I so mean? So selfish? Even now, I’m just going on about me” she wails, before almost fearfully whispering, “What if I’m just becoming like my parents?” Penny jumps in with no hesitation. “Don’t say anything like that! If Emma Selby becomes anything like a Death Eater, that’s the day I finally stuff Snape’s head into a cauldron and hold him down! And what’s this about selfish?” She almost laughs, before she realizes how inappropriate that would be right now. “You mean to tell me that you, the girl who threw herself into a duel with a werewolf during her first year, to protect a girl she’d never even met, are worried about being selfish? Chiara still won’t stop traumatizing the first years every Halloween, telling them about how Greyback broke your arm with his teeth. “‘Just lucky that Selby’s can’t turn into werewolves, or she’d probably eat you first!’ Her and Tonks have a bet going every year about how many of them she can make toss their dinner; bit unfair to do it right after the feast if you ask me.” Once she gets a tiny laugh from Emma and feels the small body in her arms relax a little more, she actually allows herself to laugh this time, and that one sound makes Emma relax a little further, a faint smile finding its way to her lips. “Now, let’s see about getting you sat up, shall we?” Emma nods slightly at this, and Penny looks at the nearest chair; she notices the clump of Emma’s hair still tied to the chair and narrows her eyes, piecing things together quickly. She looks to Emma, then the chair, then back to Emma when she notices the slow trickle of red running through the crack in the floor near Emma’s right ear.

“Em!” She wedges her hand under Emma’s right side to lift her off of the floor as gingerly as she can, before looking carefully over the wound, pushing some of the red, matted hair out of Emma’s right eye and noticing her scar over that eye seems to have reopened as well. Pushing her curiosity aside, she looks Emma in her clear eye and says “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey and get this cleaned up”, her tone leaving no room for argument. She should have known that Emma Selby of all people, as infuriating as she could sometimes be, would try to argue anyway. 

“‘Sokay Penny, just help me get back in my chair, ‘gotta study for my exams tomorrow. Well, guess that’s today now.”

“Absolutely not” Penny countered, hoisting Emma into her arms bridal style with only a minimum of huffing and puffing on account of how light she was, taking extra care to tuck Emma’s head into her shoulder to avoid jostling her around on the trek over. “You had me so scared, Em! I was coming up to talk to you actually, cause you seemed really bothered by something today, and I just heard you absolutely screaming all the way from the first floor!” She was getting this out between puffs as she jogged up the steps to the next floor as gently as she could, trying to keep Emma’s head nestled in her shoulder to prevent it from bouncing around as she went.  
Emma just flushed from embarrassment and horror. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. I’m supposed to be better than that.” 

Penny perked up at this, being reminded of what she had heard. “...Em” she began slowly, uncertain of how exactly to broach this subject. “Are you afraid to go home for the holidays, Em?” 

Emma went still at this, and paled rapidly, telling Penny everything she needed to know. “Emma, did your parents ever hit you?” The skin around the scar over Emma’s right eye twitches at this, as if recoiling from the memory, and Penny has to suppress her anger when she sees exactly how small Emma looks in her arms right now, trying to avoid Penny’s eyes by burrowing her face into her shoulder until she realizes that she’s getting blood on Penny’s robes. Penny groans internally, chastising herself for having pushed too fast, when she feels Emma nodding softly into her shoulder. Knowing she shouldn’t test her luck too much further, she changes tactics slightly by asking “Do you want to stay with my family this holiday? You could finally meet Beatrice, I’ve told her loads about you.” 

Penny can see the Hospital Wing door now, and she slows down. Emma pulls away from her shoulder and looks up at Penny now, and the tiny bit of hope she can see in Emma’s eyes surrounded by uncertainty is enough that Penny has to fight back tears on the spot. Reaching the door and knocking, she says “You don’t have to answer right now; just… promise me you’ll think it over? I know my parents would be thrilled to have someone who hasn’t heard the story of how they met in the house.”  
Madam Pomfrey opens the door now, and Penny does her best to explain what happened this time. Pomfrey’s usual frustration at her most frequent visitor flies right out the window as she takes in Emma’s appearance, and she offers Penny a bed and a change of robes to spend the night. There’s silence for a long time after Madam Pomfrey finishes bandaging Emma’s eye up and gives her a potion to grow back the clump of hair that came out; Penny just sits there, one hand resting on top of Emma’s, thinking over everything that happened tonight. She finally decides to try and get a little sleep when Emma turns over slightly and whispers “Penny?”

“Yeah Em?” Penny replies, doing her best to keep her fatigue out of her voice.

There’s a bit of silence while Emma musters up the proper words. Finally she says, “Thank you. I’d love to stay over yours for the holiday...if you don’t mind, that is.”

It feels like a question even though it shouldn’t. Penny responds by kissing Emma softly on the forehead and whispering back, “Of course, silly.” Just as the starts to rise, Penny pushes her bed a little closer to Emma’s, so that she doesn’t have to let go of her hand to sleep.


End file.
